Lucy's Story
by Victorious Spirit
Summary: Lucy talks about her experience with bulimia


Lucy's Story  
  
Looking back, I realize it all began in high school. One of my friends teased me about my "thunder thighs". I went on a diet and lost 10 lbs., but I still wasn't really skinny. I wasn't fat, but even when I was thin I had a sort of "cute" rounded look.  
  
I have an older brother and sister who have that tall thin build that everyone associates with models. My other siblings may not be tall in the same way but they're petite in a way that I'm not.. I hadn't really minded the way I looked, but then it started to get to me. I put on a bit of weight which made my face look sort of round. My brother started calling me "pumpkin head". I know he was just teasing but I couldn't help realizing there was some truth to it all. It just doesn't seem right that some people can eat anything they want and have the perfect body, and other people are stuck no matter what they do.  
  
I can't just blame that one nickname and the teasing, though. It was a lot of things. I seemed to go through a whole period where everything went wrong. Even now it seems as though my boyfriends keep rejecting me. I look at the girls that they end up dating and they're all tall and thin. Well, taller and thinner.  
  
My best friend at the time, Crystal, and I were pretty competitive too. She wasn't tall, but she was really teeny-tiny and it just seemed as though everything we did she did just a bit better. One of the better things was dating a guy that I had a crush on.  
  
The first time I purged, though, was after we had a presentation in health ed. about it. That evening, I saw my sister Mary trying on a slinky dress borrowed from a friend. She was sneaking out to a party. Not that she got away with it. Mom and dad found out, but I saw her in that dress and thought, "I could never wear something like that". And then I started thinking back to the class and thought, well, I could try it just once.  
  
Except, of course, it didn't end up being just once. I look back and I was so naïve. I saw it as a quick fix. It seemed so easy. Just a way to lose those few extra pounds and then I'd go back to what I'd been doing before. Who'd have guessed that throwing up could be addictive.  
  
We're a large family, and so the bathroom's in pretty high demand. There's almost always someone waiting to use it. I learned to hide the sound of throwing up by turning the shower on high. Sometimes I'd even bring in a radio or CD player and blare music – Christian Rock of course. I've been throwing up to the sounds of "That's what love is for" most recently.  
  
I started using bulimia as a reward, or maybe it was a punishment. I don't know. I got a "bad" grade – at the time a B+, I laugh about that now. I threw up and I felt so much better. It was like I was ridding myself of an impurity. The guy I'd thought was so cute in Soc. Class told me I looked like a snowball in my new winter coat. That just tore me apart, but at least I was in control of food. It sounds funny but not being filled up with food made me feel more filled up.  
  
It got worse when I went East to college. I think maybe it was the stress of being away from home for the first time. Nobody there knew that I was a good, popular girl. Everyone seemed to be watching me, so I felt like I had to eat breakfast, but I'd keep it small. An apple or an orange. I usually wouldn't eat lunch at all. I started skipping classes. I'd just go to school and stay in the washrooms until I'd thrown everything up. Then go out jogging.  
  
I knew I had a real problem when I got my first mid-term back. I got a D. Me. A straight A student all through high school. I worked so hard to get to a good college on a scholarship and now I was throwing it all away. After I found out that I failed one of my mid-terms I tried to overdose on pills. But I couldn't keep them down.  
  
Not only that, but I was actually putting on weight. I started using laxatives and lost 10lbs in just two weeks, but my face was still round. I kept looking at our last family portrait. Everyone else had these nice cheekbones and there I was, chipmunk face.  
  
I was throwing up so much that it started taking a real physical toll. My throat felt like it was burning all the time. My hair got thinner. My face was pale, except around my mouth where the vomit irritated the skin. Needless to say that didn't do much for my self-confidence. My right hand was scraped up from trying to force myself to vomit. And talk about bad breath!. I could kind of control that with breath mints but on bad days those made me nauseous. My eyes were blood shot. When friends saw me they figured it was because I was studying so hard, but I couldn't study. Not by the end of that year.  
  
The people I lived with started to complain about the horrible smell coming out of the sink. I can't believe they didn't clue in earlier. Maybe they did and just didn't want to admit it. I had to leave. I knew someone would figure it out eventually, and I just couldn't take the humiliation.  
  
You know what's funny? I'm basically still where I was four years ago, but now I throw up too. I mean … no boyfriend, no date on Valentine's Day. My sister moved back home again, so I get to see her skinny, model figure. I'm taking college classes at a local college. It's okay, but it's not exactly what I pictured myself doing back in high school. And Crystal's my best friend again too. We talk to each other about it, but I've sworn her to secrecy. I think Ruthie's starting to suspect, though. She looked at me sort of funny last night after I was in the bathroom. But then, she looks at everyone funny. Mary hasn't noticed even though we've been taking classes together. I thought she'd see.  
  
My parents have to be in denial. How could they not notice?  
  
I don't want my family to know, but I don't see how long I can keep this up. I've been the good daughter for so long. Mary's the beauty, and Ruthie's the brains. Where does that leave me? For a while I at least was going to do God's work as a minister, but it looks as though I've messed that up too. I'm the good one. The sensible one. That's all I have left. I can't ask for help because then I'll lose even that. 


End file.
